


600

by eLJay



Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eLJay/pseuds/eLJay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drabble each for our favorite gentlemen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	600

**Author's Note:**

> Back in my day, a drabble meant a fic of exactly 100 words, not just a shortish one-shot. Get off my lawn, you whippersnappers.

Pathetic though it sounded, these days his office felt more like home than his flat did.  The flat was still mostly bare, devoid of personality and life.  The office overflowed with both, sometimes uncomfortably and loudly so, but that was preferable to the soullessness of the flat.  It was too tempting to fill the void with empty bottles and too many cigarettes.  The less time spent there, the better: even if certain people did profess to appreciate his failings, he didn’t want to be constantly reminded of them. 

It was time to make some changes. 

Time to get to work.

* * *

A tournament was in progress.  Pennants waved in the breeze; trumpets announced the arrival of high-born spectators.  One particular knight drew the admiration of gentlemen and ladies alike as he prepared to joust, hefting his lance easily.

While noblewomen yearned for the chivalrous knight and feasted with him in the great hall, it was his page who disarmed him, literally and figuratively.  It was he who unbuckled armor and removed padding until the knight stood naked, only a sheen of sweat covering him.  He remained still as the page reached down, toward his flushed—

“Daydreaming again, Archie?”

“You’ve no idea.”

* * *

He’d thought about touching her hand to try to startle her into waking.  He wanted desperately to believe it would work: that the slightest pressure of his fingertips on the back of her hand, her palm, the inside of her wrist would be all she needed to open her eyes.  Though he imagined her smile at finding him there when she woke, and though he spent hours in her quiet room chattering about the ducks or a programme he’d seen on the telly, he never touched her.  He was crazy, but not crazy enough to think it would actually work.

* * *

They had a Land Rover in the shop and all the lads were drooling.  It was fuckin’ gorgeous, shiny and clean; he could almost hear the engine growl just sitting there.  He thought it was the loveliest thing he would see all day.

But when Izzy showed up, smile brighter than any chrome detail, he knew he’d been wrong.  She offered a hug but he shook his head.  “I’ve got grease all over.”

She gave him a sly look.  “Why do you think I’m wearing dark clothes, silly?”  So he grinned and let the loveliest thing in Lincolnshire kiss him.

* * *

England was cold, even in summer, but the birds made him feel warmer.  They reminded him of sunrise over a dusty horizon.  He imagined warm wind on his face with every beat of their wings; he heard familiar tunes in their songs.  When it rained he sought them out, bright smudges in the grey world.

Even if he sometimes missed his homeland, he could not complain about his life here.  He was safe; had a family, a home.  In time the cold would affect him less.  Until then, no matter how bad the weather got, his bed was always warm.

* * *

It was easiest to think on his scooter.  He liked open roads away from the city, where nothing could distract him from his thoughts, where he could be alone and figure things out.  One day he’d have a car and he’d be able to drive for miles, just listening to the radio and thinking.  These days he was content to hop on his scooter and let the scenery rush by.  Or he had been content until recently; now his solo rides were haunted by the memory of a body at his back and a pair of arms locked around him. 


End file.
